Selected Philosophical Poems of Tommaso Campanella: A Bilingual Edition

主題 Topic	哲學詩作
書刊名 Title	Selected Philosophical Poems of Tommaso Campanella: A Bilingual Edition
作者 Author	Tommaso Campanella; edited, translated & annotated by Sherry Roush
出版社 Publisher	The University of Chicago Press
出版年 Year	2011
語言 Language	義大利文/英文 (Bilingual Edition)
裝訂 Binding	□ 平裝 Paperback　　　　■精裝 Hardcover
頁數 Pages	247
ISBN (10 / 13)	ISBN 10: 0-226-09205-4 /ISBN 13: 978-0-226-09205-8
Bibliography Reference	(STC, Duff, GW . . .)
來源網址 Web Link
劇本簡介撰稿者	余慧珠
撰寫日期 Date	2015/6/1

A.   簡介 Introduction (within 100 words, Chinese or English)

多瑪索‧坎潘內拉(Tommaso Campanella 1568-1639)是文藝復興時期的義大利詩人， 也是當時頗負盛名的哲學家和神學家。因為反對亞里斯多德的哲學觀，被視為異端邪說，長期被監禁在修道院內。本書為拉丁文和英文對照版，總共收錄了八十九首詩，多半是哲學意味濃厚的詩作，探討具有爭議性的議題，例如如何體驗神的存在以及宗教改革之迫切需要。坎潘內拉模仿聖經的形式，自己在詩作旁邊加上許多註解，以增加權威感。由所收錄的詩作不難看出，坎潘內拉嘗試將許多新教的觀念融入天主教的傳統思維。

B.   文本摘錄 Extracts (4-6 Pages)

7 Accorgimento a tutte nazioni
 
Abitator del mondo, al Senno Primo
volgete gli occhi, e voi vedrete quanto
tirannia brutta, che veste il bel manto
di nobiltà e valor, vi mette all'imo.
    Mirate poi d'ipocrisia, che primo
fu divin culto, e santità con spanto
l'insidie; e di sofisti poi l'incanto,
contrari al Senno, ch'io tanto sublimo.
    Contra sofisti Socrate sagace,
contra tiranni venne Caton giusto,
contra ipocriti Cristo, eterea face.
    Ma scoprir l'empio, il falsario e l'ingiusto
non basta, né al morir correre audace,
se tutti al Senno non rendiamo il gusto. 

7 Warning to All Nations
Residents of the world, to the Prime Intellect
turn your eyes, and you will see how
ugly tyranny is, which wears the handsome mantle
of nobility and valor, but casts you to the depths.
Look then at the snares of hypocrisy, which first
was a divine cult with pretensions of sanctity;
and then the enchantment of sophists,
contrary to the Intellect, which I so raise to the heights.
Against the sophists came wise Socrates,
Cato the just came against tyrants,
against the hypocrites came CHRIST, ethereal light.
But to reveal the impious, the counterfeiter, and the unjust
is not enough, nor to run heedless to death,
if we all do not surrender our pleasure to the Intellect.

11 Cagione, perche meno si ama Dio,
Sommo Bene, che gli altri beni, e l’ignoranza
 
Se Dio ci dà1 la vita, e la conserva,
ed ogni nostro ben da lui dipende,
ond'è ch'amor divin l'uom non accende,
ma più la ninfa e 'l suo signor osserva?
Ché l'ignoranza misera e proterva,
chi s'usurpa il divin, per virtù vende;
ed a cosa ignorata amor non tende,
ma bassa l'ale e fa l'anima serva.
    Qui, se n'inganna poi e toglie sostanza
per darla altrui, ne' vili ancor soggetti
ci mostra i rai del ben, che tutti avanza.
    Ma noi l'inganno, il danno (ahi, maladetti!)
di lui abbracciamo, e non l'alta speranza
de' frutti e 'l senso degli eterni oggetti.

11 The Reason Why Loving God, Supreme Good,
Less than Other Goods is Ignorance
If God gives us life and preserves it
and every good of ours depends on Him,
why is it that man is not kindled to divine love,
but still attends to his beloved and her lord?
One who usurps the divine sells
a wretched and arrogant ignorance for virtue.
Love does not aim to an unknown thing,
but lowers its wing and makes our soul servile.
Here, though love deceives us and takes our substance
to give to another; yet even in our base subjugation
it shows us the rays of the Good, which surpasses all.
But we embrace the deception and ruin (oh, accursed ones!)
of it and not the lofty hope of the fruits
and the sense of the eternal objects.

17 Non e re chi ha regno, ma chi sa reggere

Chi pennelli have, e colori, ed a caso
pinge, imbrattando le mura e le carte,
pittor non è; ma chi possede l'arte,
benché non abbia inchiostri, penne e vaso.
    Né frate fan cocolle e capo raso.
Re non è dunque chi ha gran regno e parte,
ma chi tutto è Giesù, Pallade e Marte,
benché sia schiavo o figlio di bastaso.
    Non nasce l'uom con la corona in testa,
come il re delle bestie, che han bisogno,
per lo conoscer, di tal sopravvesta.
    Repubblica onde all'uom doversi espogno,
o re, che pria d'ogni virtù si vesta,
provata al sole, e non a piume e 'n sogno.

17 One Is Not King Who Has a Kingdom, but Rather
Who Knows How to Reign
One who has paintbrushes and colors and paints
at random, smearing walls and pater, is not
a painter; but only the one who possesses that art,
even if he has no ink, pen, or inkpot.
Nor do cowls and a shaven head make a friar.
A king, then, is not one who has a large kingdom and following,
but is entirely Jesus, Pallas, and Mars,
thought he be a slave or the son of a porter.
Man is not born with a crown on his head
as the king of beasts who have such need
in order to be recognized by their covering.
Thus I say people must dedicate themselves to a republic
or to a king who is cloaked with every virtue
and proven by the sun, not by feathers in a dream.
 
27 Contra Cupido
 
Son tremila anni omai che 'l mondo cole
un cieco Amor, c'ha la faretra e l'ale;
ch'or di più è fatto sordo, e l'altrui male,
privo di caritate, udir non vuole.
    D'argento è ingordo e a brun vestirsi suole,
non più nudo fanciul schietto e leale,
ma vecchio astuto; e non usa aureo strale,
poiché fûr ritrovate le pistole,
ma carbon, solfo, vampa, truono e piombo,
che di piaghe infernali i corpi ammorba,
e sorde e losche fa l'avide menti.
    Pur dalla squilla mia sento un rimbombo:
cedi, bestia impiagata, sorda ed orba,
al saggio Amor dell'anime innocenti.

27 Against Cupid
For three thousand years the world has clung
to a blind love, that has a quiver and wings;
which now more than ever is deaf, and for another’s misery
devoid of charity, refusing to hear it.
Greedy for silver, it usually dresses in brown,
no longer the naked, frank, and loyal boy,
but a crafty old man; and it does not use the golden arrow,
since pistols have been invented,
but carbon, sulfur, flames, thunder, and lead,
that infest bodies with infernal wounds,
and make avid minds deaf and sinister.
Even from my little bell I hear a boom;
“Yield, wounded beast, deaf and blind,
to the wise love of innocent souls.”

31 On the Metaphysical Highest Good
Song
Madrigal 1
Being is the highest Good, never lacking,
it needs nothing, and fears nothing.
All things love It always; but It only Itself,
because It has no betters, nor a peer more lovely.
If It is infinite, It sets us free in death,
since nothing can remain outside,
nor inside of It. Nor is anything ever
destroyed, but changes often.
The immense space of being
Is the basis of everything, hidden in Itself,
that only rests in Itself,
from Which, by Which, and in Which all things are one;
and from Which each finite thing is very far
from the infinite; and because each is ingirded
and girded, each is also very close, remaining
alive in It and through It, though for us It is not distinct,
like rain in the sea never lacking.
 
Madrigal 2
Like space penetrates all beings
in their places, and likewise is penetrated by them;
so God internalizes beings, and space, and surpasses them,
not like a place, nor like the located thing,
but in a preeminent way. He imparts
the space to locational being, and mass to bodies,
and virtue to agents to be active,
and to composites, in which His Idea passes.
And because He is, consequently every being is, too;
like splendor from a candle;
but He hides and reveals Himself
in various guises in Whom all always live,
like atoms in the air. Into living fames
firewood resists change, and then delights
in being sparks. Love, virtue, and sense
of one’s own being all leave their marks,
as much as necessary, according to their great Author.
 
Madrigal 3
Man was a baby, embryo, seed, and blood,
bread, plant, and other things, which he liked
what he is now: and that which now worries him,
to be made fire, earth, mouse, or eel,
he will eventually like; and he will believe himself blessed
in what he will be, since in all beings shines
the divine idea, and then he will forget.
So nothing loves what it seems to love:
some suffer or do,
what its Being knows best to give it.
That one may be another, all resist. He who wants
to be duke, is, in as much as he is like one or produces
that image, whence he loves that; and he is not a duke, in as much
as he detests ruining himself to become duke,. Then
there is yet another one, who is yet another one;
the wise one is all of them, while still not changed by death.
. . . .

35 That the Evil Prince is Not the Mind
of His Republic
The dickhead of the common body, not the head,
is that member of ours who takes for himself
all the riches and joys, not the toils and pains,
which he has exhausted like spent cicadas.
If only, like Cupid he teased us
sweetly, spurting into his wife’s lap
the blood and vigor, that he takes from us,
destroying us to make new people.
But with nasty deceit, in a piss pot he strews them
or on the ground, where you cannot hope
for any compensation for the mortal case.
Wretched body, which has a mind so small
to guide it in a very small head that has a nose,
but no eyes nor ears nor speech.